


Everybody Loves a Sailor

by vix_spes



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Come play, Flirting, Friendship, Frottage, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, Porn, Semi-Public Sex, Uniform Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 20:37:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3783556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vix_spes/pseuds/vix_spes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q thought he was getting his crush on 007 under control but then he saw Bond in naval uniform</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everybody Loves a Sailor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alby_mangroves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alby_mangroves/gifts).



> So, I was lucky enough to work with the amazing Alby on the 00Q ReverseBang and, somewhere in a flurry of emails, we discussed the need for Daniel Craig in naval uniform and agreed that Q totally has a uniform kink. This is the result...

If there was one thing that Q had become rather proud of in the months that he had been Quartermaster, and thus working in close contact with the double-0 division and the higher-ups, it was that he had become somewhat accustomed to if not immune to the gorgeous individuals that he worked with on a regular basis. Oh, not all of them were drop dead gorgeous but enough of them were so easy on the eye that you had to wonder if it was a requirement and wearing immaculately tailored suits seemed to have been written into their contracts. And, well, Q had always been a bit of a sucker for good-looking men in tailored suits. Still, Q prided himself on being completely professional and, as good-looking as they were, he wasn't really tempted by any of them. Except, of course, for 007.

And it had to be James bloody Bond that he was lusting after, it couldn't have been any of the other agents; ones who were potentially more available, or hell, more likely to be interested. Q wasn't unaware of his own attractiveness - he certainly got enough offers when he went out clubbing - but he was also a realist and men with such a prolific track record with women didn't suddenly want to see a man like Q. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't watch appreciatively and that was precisely what Q did. Because, quite frankly, who wouldn't watch? The man knew how to dress. Bond was always impeccably dressed in suits that were perfectly tailored to his frame and Q would be lying if he said that he hadn't caught himself starting at the man's arse on more than one occasion. He definitely wasn't the only one staring - he had caught several minions in the act as well - but then he could hardly blame either himself or them because Bond's arse was practically a work of art and deserved to be worshipped. Nevertheless, Q was convinced that he was getting his slight obsession/fascination with Bond under control and then it all went disastrously wrong as Bond was assigned a mission on home soil.

It had been discovered that there was a sleeper agent high up within the Ministry of Defence and, despite MI5's insistence that they handle it, the task had been assigned as a joint op with MI6 taking the lead. Q-branch worked overtime faking records as operatives with military backgrounds from both agencies were inserted into the MoD at all levels. As reasonably high-ranking naval officers prior to joining MI6, Alec Trevelyan and James Bond had been brought back to England and redeployed to desk jobs. At least until such a time as they had discovered the identity of the sleeper agent and could act appropriately.

At first, Q had been quite pleased to have them back. Things could get awfully tedious in Q-branch when he had to focus on admin and paperwork rather than inventing and they never failed to amuse him. They could both be rather witty when they were in the mood and he appreciated their dark, sarcastic humour and asides. Unfortunately, neither man was built for pushing paper and as the assignment started to drag on, they started to grow more restless, spending more and more of their downtime in MI6 pestering Q and his staff for new weapons or vehicles or toys of any kind to test. It very quickly got to the point where Q felt as though he were a kindergarten teacher between reining in the two double-0's and having to constantly redirect the minions attention back to their work. Very few members of Q's department had developed the ability to deal with double-0's – Bond and Trevelyan in particular – and, quite frankly, Q was growing tired of having to deal with terrified staffers.

He was also growing rather tired of Bond being a walking, talking temptation around MI6 every day. It was far easier when the man was on international assignments. Q could put his attraction to the back of his mind until the next time the blond agent swanned into Q's domain. Their interactions over the comms when Bond was on assignments had transitioned from snarky comments that were inevitably about their respective ages (and Q's skin because 007 was a git) to a mixture of the same sarcastic asides but mixed with flirtatious comments from both of them. Q had absolutely no qualms about flirting with the man. After all, it was simply harmless comments exchanged over the comms. It hadn't taken Q long to get the measure of James Bond and, simply put, the man liked sex and flirting, seemingly regardless of the gender. Besides, it wasn't as though flirting with Bond was any different to flirting with any of the random men when he went clubbing. The only difference was that it was highly unlikely that he would end up sleeping with Bond whereas the other men were fair game.

Q's main problem was that, to be perfectly blunt, he possessed incredibly traitorous capillaries. They had the tendency to betray him at the slightest provocation whether that be one of the older female members of MI6 mothering him, Moneypenny's almost sisterly teasing or 007 being an incorrigible flirt. It didn't matter what it was, the slightest thing would have Q blushing like a tomato and, of course, his pale skin didn't do anything to help matters.

That was another reason why Q preferred it when Bond was on international missions when they flirted rather than being in the same room. Over the comms, Q could control his voice and Bond would be none the wiser that Q was remotely affected by his words – honestly, some of Bond's lines were so old and cringe-worthy, Q was actually rather impressed by his success rate. In person however, Q couldn't hide the blushes or the way that he sometimes had to take a couple of minutes to compose himself or a quick mouthful of Earl Grey to wet his throat before he responded. In an attempt to stop Bond's discovery, Q had taken to being unavailable in his office or the R&D labs whenever he knew that Bond was in the building but Bond was a persistent bastard. It also didn't help that that, more often than not, Bond was wearing the number 4 naval uniform that featured a jumper that not only stretched deliciously across those broad shoulders but also left Q with an almost uncontrollable urge to pet it.

It took maybe three weeks of this before Q became convinced that Bond knew how he felt. Not only were the man's lines more outrageous than usual but he was now accompanying them with a myriad of small touches that were slowly but surely driving Q crazy with want. The problem was, he didn't know why Bond was doing this or what he wanted. Bond was notorious for _not_ sleeping with staff of MI6 so why now? Why Q? Did he actually want to sleep with Q or was he just flirting? Quite frankly, it all made Q's head hurt but he did know one thing … if sex with James Bond was on the cards then he certainly wasn't going to say no, even if it was just for one night. In the meantime, well, there was no harm in flirting was there?

Finally, after what seemed far too long to Q, all of the required evidence had been acquired, the higher-ups were satisfied that they had identified all of the people involved and a date was set for the operation to go ahead. Not for the first time, Q had to wonder how the people who ran the SIS and the Ministry of Defence got their jobs because there never seemed to be any logic to what they came up with. They had actually decided that the best time for the undercover agents to act on the intelligence about the sleeper agent, and the few that they had identified as possible collaborators, was during a formal dinner. Bond and Trevelyan were both required to be present and visible at the dinner so it would be a team made up of other double-0's and field agents that would be responsible for taking the infiltrators out. Bond and Trevelyan, theoretically, would only have to act if things went to pieces; they would both be armed and wearing earpieces so that they could be kept up to date with what was happening.

It was when all of the agents involved in the operation came into Q-branch to be outfitted with their equipment and preferred weaponry that Q came unstuck. A couple of lower ranking agents would be present and were wearing black tie/evening dress that had been modified to conceal their weaponry whereas the double-0's were dressed all in black, even their faces blacked out in order to conceal them in the shadows.

They were a complete contrast to 006 and 007.

As former serving officers, the two of them were decked out in mess dress and Q had never seen anything like it. He was more than aware that he was staring but he couldn't really bring himself to care. After all, who knew if he would ever see Bond dressed like this again. He was completely oblivious to R's whispered comments that he was gaping unattractively or the sniggers and whispered comments that his behaviour was garnering amongst his staffers. It was only when R elbowed him hard in the ribs, hissing that he was drooling, that he shook himself back into work mode. Nevertheless, even as he doled out equipment and instructions to the agents, his eyes kept being drawn back to Bond in the naval dress uniform.

Honestly, it should be illegal for a man to look like that. He even managed to make the gold lace on the trousers look good, and that was impressive. Bond looked ridiculously handsome in a dinner jacket and black tie but the mess dress took his attractiveness to another level. The cut of the jacket emphasised the breadth of Bond's shoulders while the shorter length showed off his arse to perfection. Q found himself groping for his ever present mug of tea in an attempt to stop his throat from being quite so dry. He couldn't help but feel inordinately pleased with himself when he managed to give Bond his minimal equipment without his voice cracking or without blushing. As he did so, he couldn't help but marvel at the obvious work that had gone into the dress uniform. Even with Bond wearing his Walther in a hidden holster (and undoubtedly a second weapon in an ankle holster), the line of the jacket wasn't altered in the slightest; it still fell perfectly. More than aware that he was staring, Q dragged his eyes up to see a slight smile playing on Bond's lips and amusement dancing in those ice-blue eyes. Mortified, Q took a large swallow of his tea but held his ground, no matter how strong the urge to flee. But, the second that Bond left the branch, Q breathed a sigh of relief and disappeared into his office to follow the operation, pointedly ignoring the knowing looks of his senior staff as he did so.

He supposed that he could now say that he definitely found men in naval uniform more than a little attractive. Although, given his lack of reaction to Alec Trevelyan in naval uniform, maybe it was just limited to James Bond in naval uniform. Either way, the sooner that Bond was back in his usual suits, the better for Q's sanity.

  
(~*~)

Three hours later, with the operation successfully completed and the sleeper agents safely in MI6 custody, Q slipped off his headset and took a swig of his now cold tea. Even if he ran, he wouldn't make the last tube so he might as well take his time and call for the car-pool to run him home. Most of the staff that hadn't been needed had been sent home soon after the teams had departed leaving just Q and the skeleton night crew. He had sent R home an hour into the operation on the understanding that she would be in charge of the branch the following day while Q worked, in the loosest possible sense, from home.

He was slowly starting to close down his systems for the night and pack away the things that he wanted to take home to work on when he heard the slight click of his office door closing and barely audible footfalls behind him. Tensing up and spinning around, he relaxed minutely as he saw that it was Bond. He was unable to stop himself from taking a more lingering, appreciative look as he saw that Bond had clearly come straight from the dinner as he was still wearing his mess dress.

Bond wasn't quite as impeccably dressed as he had been at the beginning of the evening though; instead of being perfectly tied, his bow tie now hung around his neck and he looked a little rumpled. And of course it was one of the ones that you had to tie yourself, Q groused internally, because it was Bond. Q ignored the little voice inside his head, the one that sounded annoyingly like Bond, telling himself that he was just bitter because he couldn't even tie a normal tie.

Sweeping an eye over the man he noted that the man was looking distinctly more relaxed than he had been several hours ago but then who wouldn't be? The mission had been completed successfully and, for once, Bond hadn't actually had to do anything. He hadn't been shot at, hadn't shot anyone, hadn't lost any equipment and didn't have to go to, or rather avoid, medical. All in all, it was a resounding success. But, that didn't explain why Bond was currently lounging in the doorway of Q's private office with a rather predatory look on his face. This was more than just the flirting that they had been engaging in – this was an escalation. This was a look that Q had seen on Bond's face countless times over security cameras the world over, usually just before a very willing woman fell into the agents bed. There was an intensity there that simultaneously made Q's cock twitch in distinct interest and his stomach feel as though there were a thousand butterflies fluttering around inside. At a momentary loss for what to do, Q swallowed heavily.

“Bond, what are you doing here?” Q turned back to his screens, needing something to distract himself with.

“Do I need a reason to be here? Can't I come and pay my favourite Quartermaster a visit?”

“Bond, I'm your only Quartermaster and it wouldn't do to piss me off. You don't really have any equipment to return and I would imagine that you can avoid M and doing your AAR for several days. So, I ask again, what are you doing in my office?”

This time, when Bond's words came, they were practically purred in Q's ear, making him almost leap out of his skin.

“Q, I'm hurt. Anybody would think you didn't love me.”

“And, pray tell, why would I love you 007? You're almost completely incapable of following instructions and nine times out of ten you either don't bring your equipment back or it's irretrievable. Why would that endear you to me? If anything, 005 is my favourite. She not only listens to instructions and brings back her equipment but she brings me back presents.”

“That may be true but you still love me. Admit it.”

Q had to fight hard to stop his scoff from turning into a whimper when Bond's hand clamped down on his hips and he realised that Bond was so close, he could feel the heat radiating from Bond's body.

“At the very least, you want me. You can't deny it Quartermaster; I've seen you staring.”

The smug tone set Q on edge and he whirled around. “And if I were staring? I hadn't realised that was a crime, 007?”

“It isn't. I was just wondering why you'd never done anything about it.”

“And what precisely would you suggest that I do about it?” Q arched an eyebrow, having no intention whatsoever of backing down.

“Well, I thought we could start with this,” Bond stepped forward and brushed a chaste kiss across Q's lips, “then move onto other pleasurable things.”

“And what might those other pleasurable things entail?” Q resisted the urge to squirm as those ice-blue eyes locked on his at his question.

“You're stalling. Why? I've been flirting with you for months Q, not to mention the last few weeks. Do you doubt my interest?”

“I don't doubt your interest Bond. I'm well aware that you'll shag anything with a pulse, I just didn't think you'd be interested in shagging me.”

“You have a pulse don't you?”

Q shot Bond a sour look at his light-hearted comment. “I'm just saying that you usually have a particular type and they don't normally have a cock, even if they do have a pulse.”

“What can I say? You're an exception to the rule. A rather gorgeous exception to the rule. Look Q, we're both mature, responsible adults,” Bond ignored Q's snort at his words and continued talking. “I want you and I know you want me. I'm not promising a long-term relationship but there's nothing to say that we can't have a bit of fun. What do you say?”

Q stared at Bond for several long seconds, his mind racing as it sifted through the pros and cons of what he was about to do before he finally thought ' _fuck it_ ' and surged up against Bond, murmuring against his lips, “I'd say thank god the minions can't see into my office.”

And then they were kissing hungrily, teeth clashing and noses bumping until Bond took control of the situation. He tangled a hand in Q's wild mop of hair so that it was _just_ on the pleasurable side of pain and using his grasp as an opportunity to slant his mouth over Q's, slowing the kiss so that it went from frenzied to almost languorous. Q found himself having to wrap his arms around Bond's neck when his knees started to feel decidedly weak at Bond's slow and thorough exploration of his mouth. Q had had plenty of lovers over the years, both in relationships and as one-night stands, but not one of them had ever kissed him like this, not in such a masterly fashion.

As Bond broke away to explore Q's neck and jawline with lips and teeth, Q let his hands wander over Bond's torso, flitting over the gold braid at his cuffs, the buttons of the jacket and the medals pinned to his breast. At the latter, Bond pulled back with that supercilious smirk that made Q want to hit him.

“I knew it, it's the uniform isn't it?”

“What?” Q leant back against his desk, startled by the words that had come out of nowhere.

“It's the uniform, the reason you can't stop staring at me. You've got a uniform kink.”

Q blushed furiously, cursing his capillaries as he did so, but did his best to brazen it out. “And if I did? What are you complaining about?”

“I'm not complaining, just making an observation.”

“Well, stop making observations then and just bloody do something.”

“With pleasure.”

Q made to move away from his desk only to be halted by Bond's grasp on his hips and to utter a small squeak as he was hoisted up to sit on his desk. When they had been standing, they had both been much the same height but now Bond towered over Q, having to lean down to kiss him. Not that Q minded particularly. Quite on the contrary, he arched up into Bond eagerly, not caring about the noises that were escaping him. Wanting to turn the tables slightly, he turned his attention to Bond's jaw and neck, nipping at the corded muscles and relishing the throaty groans his actions elicited only to pause as he heard several crashes as a series of items fell to the floor and a flurry of papers as Bond cleared Q's desk with one sweep of his arm.

Any protest Q was about to make about the utter disregard being shown for his tech was muffled by Bond's kiss and, to be perfectly frank, Q couldn't really find it within himself to complain too much when he was pressed back onto the desk, Bond's weight settling over him completely, pressing them together from shoulder to groin. Q let his head thud back against the desk as Bond turned his attention back to Q's neck, leaving passion marks that Q just knew he wouldn't be able to hide beneath his cardigans. Not that Q had any intention of stopping this, he just didn't really want to have to put up with R's smug remarks about how she knew that Bond wanted him.

Determined to not let R have _all_ the fun, Q slid his hands between them, his fingers finding the buttons of Bond's jacket and making quick work of them. As he slid the jacket and the holster off Bond's shoulders, the weight of the medals and the Walther causing it to fall to the floor with a thump, he felt Bond's fingers start to work on the buttons to Q's cardigan and shirt. With the jacket dealt with, Q moved onto the waistcoat, only to growl in annoyance when it was harder to remove than the jacket. His groan earned him a sharp bite to the clavicle that had Q's hips bucking up involuntarily into Bond's. Feeling their still-clothed cocks brush together momentarily, Q wanted, _needed_ more and hooked his leg up around Bond's hip so that he could align their groins and gain the friction that he so badly needed. One hand slipped behind Bond to grip the arse that he had been ogling for such a long time and pull Bond in even closer, as a series of moans, gasps and other sounds escaped him before Bond silenced him with another kiss. It still wasn't enough though. Q needed more and he couldn't help the whine that escaped him as Bond pulled back.

“Hush Q. I've got no intention of coming in my pants like a teenager. Have you go any ...”

Q leant up on his elbows. “Have I got any what? Lube? Condoms? This is my office, Bond … I don't exactly make a habit of this. Besides, you're an agent; shouldn't you always be prepared?”

“I think you'll find that's the Scouts not the double-0 division. We'll just have to improvise.”

Q continued to watch as Bond easily despatched the waistcoat and made short work of the buttons on his shirt, although he left it hanging on, before he started on unbuttoning his trousers. Q still making no move to undo his own trousers, simply watching Bond.

“Enjoying the view?” Bond asked, one eyebrow raised inquisitively.

“Very much so. You could have taken a bit more time though.”

Q's quip earned him a bark of laughter and a rough kiss. “Cheeky pup.”

“Well, we can't all be ...” Q's sentence was cut off and his eyes rolled back in his head as Bond unceremoniously undid the placket of his trousers and wrapped his hand around Q's cock. Q's fingers clawed at Bond's shoulders before finally fisting in his shirt as Bond took them both in hand. It was clear that Bond had no intention of drawing this out for any longer than necessary, something that Q was incredibly grateful for. He moaned into Bond's mouth as a calloused thumb brushed over the tip of his cock, spreading the moisture so that Bond's hand could move a little easier.

Despite the awkward angle, it wasn't long before they were both close to orgasm. Bond seemed determined that Q come first, sliding his other hand between them to fondle Q's balls and press the pad of his middle finger against Q's perineum, his mouth swallowing the resulting moan as his actions sent Q flying over the edge. Despite feeling a bit wrung out, Q reached out for Bond only for the older man to step back and take his cock in hand again, working himself until he came all over Q's stomach and groin.

Seeing that Bond had yet to take his eyes off him, Q was unable to resist trailing his fingers through the mess on his stomach and bringing them to his lips, eyes fluttering shut only to open at the low moan the action dragged from Bond.

“The things you make me want to do to you.”

Q dragged his fingers across his stomach again and smirked. “I didn't think men of your age could get it up more than once in a night.”

This time it was Q who moaned as Bond stepped forward and sucked Q's fingers into his mouth before releasing them with a lewd pop. “Insolent brat. I'll show you just how many times a man of my age can get it up.”

“Promises, promises.” Q couldn't help but tease as he got off his desk, trousers just about clinging to his hips. He gasped and wiggled his arse as his comment earned him a smack on the arse.

“You're going to be the death of me,” Bond growled as he put his clothing to rights as much as possible. “Get dressed, I'm not waiting any longer than I have to before I fuck you.”

“ _Yes Commander._ ” Q couldn't help the snarky comment but the strangled groan that it received and the fact that James Bond was practically hustling him out the door had him grinning.

Clearly he wasn't the only one of them with a kink.

(~*~)

The following morning, R was genuinely surprised when she came in to work only to discover that Q wasn't in branch. Even though he had sent her home early last night because he wouldn't be in for the morning, the number of times that she had heard that only to discover that he had beaten her in were too numerous to count. Still, Q was clearly not at his station in the centre of Q-branch and a quick scout of the labs showed that he wasn't in there so R headed for his private office. Only a few select people knew the access codes and, thankfully, R was one of them. She wasn't all that relieved once she actually got the door open.

Q had never been particularly tidy – it simply wasn't possible as the Quartermaster, what with the sheer number of files, prototypes and bits of equipment that littered his desk on a day to day basis – but there had always been an element of control to the chaos. Now, however, it looked as though the room had been burgled. The desk chair was overturned on the floor and it looked as though half of the desk was on the floor. She was just pulling up the security cameras for Q-branch when she heard heavy footsteps behind her. She only looked round when she heard a low almost admiring whistle to see Alec Trevelyan stood there with a faintly impressed look on his face but quickly turned back to watching the security footage.

"Well, it looks like someone had a good time last night."

That got her attention and she spun around, the double-0 now having her full attention. "What are you talking about?"

"James and Q of course. Come on, surely you've heard them flirting up a storm over the comms? I've never seen James try so hard to get someone to go out with him before; it's been hilarious. Although it would seem they didn't quite make it to dinner. Look."

Alec nodded at the screen where a very dishevelled Bond and Q could be seen exiting Q-branch in the small hours of the morning, Bond throwing a cheeky wink and salute at the camera and then clearly dragging Q out of the door.

“But … but .. “ R was clearly baffled by what she was seeing on screen. “Really?”

Alec let out a huge boom of laughter, startling R and easily avoiding the punch aimed at his bicep. “Really. How did you miss our skinny darling Quartermaster looking like he wanted to climb James like a tree earlier? I'm impressed that they managed to wait until Q-branch was empty.”

“But, Q? And 007?”

Alec laughed again, this time on his way out of the office. “Yup. Didn't you know R? Everybody loves a sailor...”

**Author's Note:**

> If you would prefer to comment on LJ, you can do so [here](http://vix-spes.livejournal.com/186271.html)


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